Burning Touch
by HatakeKaede-san
Summary: "Oh, Clara...did you know that even when a person doesn't want to kill themselves, they can want to do terrible things to themselves?...perhaps you could even say that it's far worse than merely wanting to kill themselves...tell me, Clara, is this what you're trying to do? Are you trying to punish yourself?" Takes place after Death in Heaven, AUish.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who.

 **Burning Touch**

Clara woke up with a start. She'd swear that she heard some kind of movement in her otherwise quite empty hospital room. She sat up on the bed to the extent the restraints on her wrists would allow her to. Sure enough there was the shadow of an old grey man looming over her the light from the moon shining from behind the barred window illuminating his lined face. If she were able to sleep she would be under the impression that she was still fast asleep. But it had been quite a few nights since she last was granted the ability to leave the world of the living for long enough to dream. And when she did she was faced with nightmares and demons rather than old Scottish man lumped in the chair next to her bed.

"Clara, Clara, Clara," he finally spoke, her name on his lips as contemplative as ever.

"Doctor...what are you doing here?" she asked not meeting his gaze.

"Could ask you the same."

"Did you come to bail me out?" Clara asked a sliver of hope finding its way into her voice.

"No," the Doctor shook his head sadly.

"Why not? You're here so you're quite real, which means that I haven't gone mental," she tried to protest.

"True, I am as real as the next person. But we both know that's not why they keep you here nowadays, don't we?"

Clara closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. She didn't want to hear this.

"Humans, for such a fine race they understand so little about their own psyche. But even they don't tie people to their hospital bed behind barred windows just because they talk some nonsense about an alien mad man with a magic box. So no, that's not why you're here. Generally humans do this," he gestured to Clara: "in cases when they perceive someone as a potential threat to others...or to themselves."

The girl properly looked into the old man's eyes for the first time: "I wasn't trying to...you know."

"Trying to do what?"

"To kill myself," she stated matter of factly broaching the elephant in the room. She had never bothered to oppose the accusations when they came from her therapists or from her dad. Even when her grandmother had implied it she had merely remained silent. But it was different with the Doctor. She needed him to know. He would understand.

"Oh, Clara," he murmured as he brushed away a wild strand of hair from her eyes: "I know that you didn't. That's what scares me, Clara. If you had wanted to kill yourself, you would have been long dead. You would have planned the whole thing out. Just as you had planned all of this. Always the control freak," he laughed humourless.

Clara shook her head: "No, I didn't plan this. What do you mean I planned this?"

The Doctor put his head into his hands: "Oh, that's even better," he got out sarcastically: "you planned it and you didn't even realise it. You still don't get it it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"On that day you went to the swimming pool you didn't just switch the pills by accident. No control freak in their right mind would allow such disorder that would lead to mistaking sleeping pills for antidepressants. You would have kept them meticulously separate. There's no way you would have grabbed the wrong bottle just like that."

"Doctor," Clara laughed dryly: "I had been taking antidepressants with the odd sleeping pill for weeks, so I quite obviously wasn't in my right mind as you so eloquently put it. It was all just an accident I swear."

"Was it?" he questioned: "then tell m this, Clara. Why at ten. Why did you choose to go to the swimming pool at ten o'clock on that day?"

"What? Why would that matter?"she shook her head.

"Since November 1st you went to that damn swimming pool every day exactly at 8 a.m. You were avoiding people and the pool was always empty at that time, even the lifeguard who was supposed to be keeping his eye on things was eating breakfast and reading his bloody paper. Yet on that day you waited until ten o'clock to get in. "

"Have you been spying on me?"she accused.

"No. I was just very thorough in my research. So why did you get there so late on that day, Clara?"

"It was Saturday. I must have slept in."

"I don't think you did though. Do you know why I think you went there so late?"

"No idea, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me," she got out sharply.

"At ten o'clock that place was buzzing with people. Not a good place for someone who's trying to escape or for someone who's gonna try to kill themselves. But a very good place for someone who's gonna cry out for help."

"That's absurd," Clara protested.

"Is it really?" the Doctor wondered.

Clara closed her eyes and tried to bring the image of that day in front of her eyes.

 _She was running late which was something quite unusual in her life lately. After all she had planned out almost every second of each day, filled every moment of her life with activity. The Doctor and the TARDIS were no longer part of the picture but even so she still kept running. She packed her things and grabbed the bottle from the bathroom cabinet and put it into her pocket. Had she looked at the description? She genuinely couldn't remember. The next few hours were a blur to her. She could recall swallowing the two pills after she went into the changing room. There were far more people in the pool than usually but she ignored them all. She swam and swam until all of her muscles burned and hurt to the point of exhaustion. She felt kind of drowsy but she wrote it off. After all she was tired all the time now. She rarely got a good night of sleep as the demons haunted her and she tried to avoid the sleeping pills for the most part. The antidepressants were wrecking enough havoc on her system of their own. She took a breather before she threw herself into swimming a few more lengths and then she could feel her eyes drifting closed. She couldn't recall if she had tried to fight off the sensation but slowly she was enveloped by the darkness and the water was filling in her lungs. The next thing she knew she woke up in the hospital. They kept her for the night just to make sure that she was alright, after all young women in good health don't just go passing out in swimming pools. But then she had found the bottle in her bag and realised that she must have switched the bottles. All was explained as an accident. The doctors released her with a warning to take more care next time. And then on Monday she got up and went to work as if nothing had happened._

"Do you know why I don't think that it was just an accident?" the Doctor asked but continued before his companion could get a word in: "It if happened once I'd be tempted to believe it was all just the work of coincidence. But twice, Clara? And you expect me to believe that you didn't do it on purpose?"

Clara gripped the bed sheet tight in her hands: "I just miscounted,"she insisted: "It happens, you know."

"Miscounted?" the Doctor asked dumbfounded: "You swallowed half a bottle worth of sleeping pills, Clara. Now I know you're an English teacher and all that, but surely even your tiny little human brain has a better grasp of maths then that."

"Look, it was really dumb, I know. But as I said I wasn't in the right state of mind and I was really tired,okay? I just wanted to get some sleep."

"And so it happened that you drowned enough sleeping pills to kill you just on the day when your father whom you had not seen in months announced himself for a visit. And it turns out that you took them shortly before he was supposed to arrive. So that there would be enough time to get to the hospital to get the stuff out of your system before poor old David would be standing not just over the grave of his wife but also of his daughter."

"That was low, Doctor" Clara growled.

"Was it?" he echoed: "Perhaps it was. But Clara tell me this, was it yet another accident that your father just happened to be there or was it just another part of the calculation in your plan?"

"What plan?" she asked as the images of another day stormed in front of her eyes.

 _She was frantically running around the apartment trying to clean up. There was only an hour left in order to make the place seem like less of a mess that it had turned into in the last few months. She had let the place go to the hounds in her state of apathy. But there it was once again, the persistent need for control, for maintaining appearances. She had not seen her dad for months, not since he had come to visit her to the hospital. They only ever exchanged short calls or emails and she had tried her hardest to come across as cheerful as ever. But not too cheerful given the circumstances. She wasn't sure whether he actually believed her or if he just played along for her sake. Unlike Gran who was always able to see right through her, David was more likely to miss what his eyes didn't want to see. That was why she still kept in touch with him while she avoided contact with Gran at all costs. With dad there still was hope that he had actually believed her web of lies. And perhaps if she could get the place in order he would go on believing that all was in order with Clara as well._

 _She took a deep breath as the blood rushed into her head and she saw black in front of her eyes. She sat down on the couch. She needed sleep. She had seen her image in the mirror, she could hardly convince anyone that she was alright with the dark bags under her eyes. Just a couple of minutes of peaceful slumber before her dad came in wouldn't hurt anyone. She tried closing her eyes but the relief wouldn't come. Dad still had his set of keys to her apartment, in case of emergencies, so he would be able to let himself in. So it wouldn't matter if she took a pill. Just this once. She swallowed one of them and lied down on the coach. Still the sleep would not arrive. She sat up and took the bottle into her hand and contemplated it. Perhaps she needed a stronger dose. With all the meds she had been on these past few weeks it was no wonder if she needed something stronger to knock her out. She took a couple more pills. Her memories of what happened afterwards were hazy. Had she taken some more of the pills? Well, according to what followed it would seem that way._

 _The next few hours were as if she were dreaming but small parts of reality still managed to find a way to sneak in. A constant ringing and pounding in her head. Her dad trying to call her, tying to get her to open the door before resorting to using the key. A burning pain on her cheek in the place where he had lightly slapped her in order to try to keep her somewhat awake._

 _"Clara!" the desperation of his voice sneaking into her dreams as he asked horrified: "Did you take something? What did you take, Clara?"_

"Why are you actually here, Doctor?" Clara decided it was her turn to start asking questions: "What happened to Gallifrey?"

"It doesn't matter," he dismissed.

"It matters to _me_ , Doctor," she growled, hot anger creeping into her voice: "Did you lie to _me_ about Gallifrey?"

The Doctor lowered his head: "You lied to me about PE. So I'd say we're fairly even."

Clara's expression softened: "I wasn't going to lie, you know...but when you told me about Gallifrey I just wanted you to be happy. Happy before I..."

"I know. I wanted the same thing for you," he confessed as he laughed dryly: "And look at the two of us now. Funny how things work out."

He furrowed his brow: "You wanted me happy before you what?"

She turned her head away from him before she whispered: "Before I got you killed."

He took one of her hands in both of his and gently kissed it: "Oh, Clara...did you know that even when a person doesn't want to kill themselves, they can want to do terrible things to themselves...perhaps you could even say that it's far worse than merely wanting to kill themselves...tell me, Clara, is this what you're trying to do? Are you trying to punish yourself?"

She didn't speak out, but she gulped and closed her eyes and in vain tried to fight the tears which threatened to spill out of her eyes. The Doctor didn't need more of a confession than that to know.

"Why, Clara?" his vice almost broke.

"Surely you must know," she squeaked: "Everything I touch, dies. My mum, Danny, the Doctor...even..."

"The Doctor didn't die. I'm right here in front of you, Clara."

"I didn't mean you," she shook her head.

"I thought we were over this, Clara," he got through clenched teeth.

She didn't acknowledge his words: "Did you know that the day my mom died, I asked her to get me something? She went to the shops because I asked her to. If it weren't for me she would still be alive."

"Clara, you can't think like that."

Her small hand shook in his two bigger ones: "And Danny...the reason why he was hit by that car was because he was talking to me on the phone. And he was distracted because I told him something very important. I told him on the phone even though I should have told him in person. But do you know why I didn't, Doctor? Because I was scared, I was terrified of saying the truth. And then Danny died because I was cowardly."

"The universe has been very cruel to you, Clara, but it's not your fault. Surely you must see that."

"Must I really?"

The Doctor sighed: "But we both know that this isn't really about Bow Tie or about your mom or even about Danny. There was more."

 _Clara was trying to get class 7A interested in Shakespeare. It was quite a difficult feat to do given that she gave the impression of being more disinterested in the topic of the lecture than any of the students. They kept quite and no one really tried to disturb the class. But it all felt so forced. She wondered which of her colleagues was behind this. Was it just Adrien or did the kids' orders come from a higher power? She imagined how that meeting went. You're almost grown ups now, surely you can imagine how hard this all must be for your teacher. Fragile Miss Oswald, you better not make her anymore upset than she already is. She turned to the table to write a quote from Hamlet down. It was still very quiet but she could feel the whispers behind her back. She pressed the chalk hard against the blackboard as she felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. She cried out but in a moment it passed. She disregarded the question when one of the students wondered whether she were alright and continued with the lesson. But in a few minutes the pain returned in such force that she saw black in front of her eyes. She dropped the chalk and walked out of the class without a word ignoring the students' confused cries of "Miss? Miss!"_

 _She dragged her feet behind her before she finally reached the teacher's lounge and dropped into a chair panting._

 _"Clara!" she could hear both Julia and Adrien cry out before they jumped to her side: "are you alright?"_

 _"What? Yeah, sure, of course...just not feeling all too well. Must be something I ate," she lied through her teeth as he tried to ignore the two of her colleagues exchanging knowing looks. So perhaps they were aware about her condition._

 _"Julia, class 7A, could you please take over?" she asked of her colleague: "We were just covering Hamlet."_

 _"Sure," Julia nodded as she patted her shoulder: "just take care of yourself, Clara, won't you?"_

 _"Of course," Clara nodded._

 _Adrien kneeled next to her chair and passed her a glass of water: "Do you want to go to the hospital?" he offered._

 _She shook her head vigorously: "No, I'll be fine, it'll pass I'm sure."_

 _He pressed her shoulder: "Are you sure? This could be serious, Clara."_

 _"I'm sure, it has happened before, you know. It always passes eventually," she managed to plaster a smile on her face: "Mind you, I don't think I'll be doing any more teaching today so could you perhaps drive me home? I'll have to walk and get the bike tomorrow or today once I feel better."_

 _"Sure," Adrien agreed as he helped her get up._

 _"I don't really feel god about leaving you on your own," Adrien worried._

 _Clara hugged him: "That's sweet of you and thank you. But I won't be alone. I texted Gran from the car, she'll be here any second. So don't worry and get yourself back to work."_

 _"Okay," he conceded and turned to walk out of her flat._

 _"Adrien," she called after him: "Thanks. I really appreciate this."_

 _"No problem," he smiled._

 _Clara lied down on the couch pulling a pillow close to her abdomen waiting for the pain to pass as it always did. But the pain wouldn't let go. She closed her eyes and let the feverish slumber overtake her. She only opened her eyes once she heard Gran come inside the flat. She breathed sharply as she tried to get up despite the pain. All the alarm bells started ringing. Something was very very wrong._

 _"Clara, dear, are you alright?" her Gran was next to her side._

 _She could see the turmoil and horror that was slowly building inside herself mirrored in her eyes. The elderly woman cupped her granddaughter's face and whispered gently: "Clara, dear, you're bleeding."_

 _The girl looked at her with utter confusion as he touched the spot between her legs with one of her hands and felt a warm sticky substance under her hands._

 _"No, no, no," she cried out: "this cant be happening! This isn't happening!"_

 _Her grandmother grasped her by the shoulders: "Clara, dear, listen to me. You need to calm down," she stopped her before she could protest: "Yes, I know it's hard but if you panic you might make this worse. We don't know what's happening, okay? So just breath in and breath out, alright, love?" she tried to calm Clara down as she dialled for an ambulance._

 _"Don't push" was the mantra repeated first by the paramedics then by the doctors but Clara had no power left in her. She just wanted it all to be over. And then it was, it was all over. It was just a thing that happens sometimes and this time around it happened to her and there was nothing that they could have done about it. It would be hard but she and her husband could always try the next time someone in the hospital tried to cheer her up. She just swallowed the tears and bit her tongue. Because she knew there would be no next time. Not now that Danny was gone. And it was all her fault. First she got Danny killed and now she had lost even the last string that was connecting them. And it was all her fault. Because she finally remembered. She was sure that there was something she had forgotten all week but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was a doctor's appointment, it was on Monday and she had missed it._

"Doctor, I killed it...I killed Danny's child...I even killed Orson Pink..I killed my baby," the tears now streaked freely down her face.

"You didn't kill anyone, Clara Oswald," the Doctor reprimanded her sharply: "it was sad and it was cruel, but it just happened. Could have happened to anyone."

She shook her head: "They told me not to push but I couldn't stop...I wasn't strong enough...and I missed it. I missed the doctor's appointment and they could have found out that something was wrong...they could have saved my baby."

He brushed her hand with his finger: "Clara, you can't know that. Even if they had found out sooner there likely was nothing they could have done."

When the girl finally spoke her voice was cold and detached: "It doesn't matter though, does it? Everything I touch burns."

"Not everything," the Doctor disagreed.

"No?" Clara challenged.

"No," he said: "not everything. You said that the Doctor died...but he didn't," he held up a hand stopping her before she interrupted him: "please let me finish this. Bow Tie...he didn't... _I_ didn't die. And do you knw why? I was very nearly there when you, Clara Oswald, saved me. And not just on Trenzalore. How many times have you saved me, Clara? More times than your tiny pudding brain can grasp and in more ways than you can imagine. So just this once, just for the hell of it, please I'm begging you, let me save you."

Clara laughed and for the first time that night there was a shadow of a genuine smile passing over her tear streaked face: "I don't deserve a friend like you," she said at last.

"On the contrary, Clara, I'm exactly what you deserve," he squeezed her hand.

"Your face, Clara," he started.

"What's wrong with my face?" she wondered.

"Nothing," he smiled: "it's just your eyes, they're malfunctioning again."

Clara bit her lip: "Then everything is in order I suppose."

"Is it really? Are you alright, Clara?"

She shook her had: "What do you think? Of course,I'm not. But I think I will be. Eventually. And that's all that matters."

He brushed the hair away and kissed her forehead tenderly: "That's good enough for me."


End file.
